


only bought this dress so you could take it off

by johnllauren



Series: and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates) [2]
Category: Clone High
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Porn with Feelings, i dont know how to tag this im so sorry everyone, jfk wears a dress but it's not a kink thing its a gender expression exploration thing okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27266791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: There’s certainly no shortage of mirrors in their room, what with the two of them living in it. When Jack twirls, he can see every angle of it, the way it hugs his torso and flares at his waist, betrays just a hint of abs and the slit that shows off his left thigh. It compliments his skin tone, too, but that’s because he knows the colors that look good on him.He loves it.And, normally, confidence is never something he’slacked,so he doesn’t know why this is freaking him out so much.
Relationships: JFK/Ponce "Poncey" de León (Clone High)
Series: and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990909
Comments: 16
Kudos: 86





	only bought this dress so you could take it off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mcflym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcflym/gifts).



> you can flame me for writing clone high fic but do not flame me for jfk wearing a dress okay its canon that he's so hypermasc because he feels like he has to live up to the expectations of real jfk let him explore himself and his expression. anyway

There’s certainly no shortage of mirrors in their room, what with the two of them living in it. When Jack twirls, he can see every angle of it, the way it hugs his torso and flares at his waist, betrays just a hint of abs and the slit that shows off his left thigh. It compliments his skin tone, too, but that’s because he knows the colors that look good on him. 

He loves it. 

And, normally, confidence is never something he’s _lacked,_ so he doesn’t know why this is freaking him out so much. 

If there’s one thing he’s sure of, though, it’s that he’s never going to wear this dress (or any dress) outside or around anyone. Not even Ponce. 

He’s safe wearing it now because Ponce is in a class and won’t be back for another hour. JFK has Ponce’s schedule memorized, both because he’s a good friend (slash friend-with-benefits, slash maybe-boyfriend) and so that he can wear things he’d never dream of wearing around Ponce. Like the dress.

It’s a little wrinkled, since he keeps it folded up at the bottom of a drawer, but it isn’t like he could hang it up anywhere. And anyway, he’s not taking pictures, just appreciating the way it looks. The way he looks. When he just so happens to be wearing a dress. 

JFK isn’t very keen on exploring the meanings of his recent sexuality crisis. All he knows is that he has sex with Ponce sometimes, which is cool and normal, and sometimes they kiss even when they aren’t having sex, which is also good with him, and he likes to wear feminine clothes. And he certainly doesn’t want to spend too much time dwelling on it. So he doesn’t. Sometimes he just puts on a dress and likes how it feels. 

And then the doorknob twists. And he hears Ponce say “aw, damn,” and pull out his key to unlock it. 

He panics. 

Ponce’s class shouldn’t be over for another hour, and it’s not like he could take off the dress _now,_ and even if he did Ponce would see him in his underwear holding a dress anyway. So JFK just fucking stands there, staring at the door like a deer about to get hit by a car. 

“Jackie-boy, you home? You’ll never believe it, the professor let us go an hour-” his voice cuts off as soon as he looks at JFK. 

JFK crosses his hands over his chest as if that’ll hide anything, and just says, “Sorry,” but his voice comes out weirdly high-pitched and shaky. 

Ponce shakes his head and blinks a couple times. “Uh, no, don’t be sorry. Where - are you going somewhere?”

Jack shakes his head. “No,” he says immediately. “Not like I, er, uh, would wear this anywhere. Ever.” 

“Why not?” Ponce asks, dropping his bag on the floor and sitting down on his desk chair, his gaze never leaving JFK. 

“Why not?” He repeats. “Have you seen me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” And his eyes make their way up and down JFK’s body almost ridiculously slowly, making JFK’s ears redden. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t.”

“Well, then, because I don’t want to.” JFK says. He doesn’t talk about how he’s embarrassed, or this might be wrong, or how he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing.

Ponce swallows. “It looks good on you, Jack. Real good.”

JFK is unable to stop his jaw from dropping in surprise. “You - you think so?” 

He nods. “Of course. Real good.” 

“I thought - I don’t know, I thought you’d hate it. Cause, uh, there’s gotta be something wrong-” 

“Don’t talk like that, Jack. There’s nothing wrong about it. Especially not with the way it looks.” Ponce says, his gaze softening in the way it does whenever JFK gets upset. 

“Oh.” Jack says, lacking anything else to say. 

Ponce stands up from his chair somewhat uncertainly. “Can I come closer?”

Jack nods, and Ponce does. And then they’re face-to-face. 

“Can I touch you?” Ponce asks. 

“Yeah,” JFK breathes, and Ponce places his hands on Jack’s waist gently, like Jack could pull away if he wanted to. 

“This okay?” Ponce asks, meeting Jack’s eyes. 

Jack’s gotta look awful, the way he’s blushing crimson and his eyes are wide in disbelief. But Ponce’s gaze is soft and caring and there’s nothing Jack can do but trust him. 

Ponce’s eyes flick down to his lips. “ _This_ okay?” 

“ _Yes,_ ” Jack says, too quick for his own good. 

Ponce kisses him. He always kisses sweet and deep and terribly slow, like this is their first and last kiss at the same time, and Jack is absolutely head over heels for it. He grips Jack’s hips harder now, pulling their torsos close together, dipping Jack ever so slightly backward and it feels like he’s swooning. His tongue brushes across Jack’s lower lip, a question, and Jack’s lips part for him. Ponce’s tongue, just like the rest of him, is gentle and cautious but it leaves Jack absolutely wrecked. 

When he breaks the kiss, he’s smiling, and Jack is panting. “Does this actually do it for you?” 

Ponce nods. “Obviously.”

“Oh,” Jack says, almost lamely. “I didn’t… I didn’t think you’d like it.”

“Of course I do,” Ponce says, pressing a kiss to Jack’s forehead. “You could do anything and I’d like it.” 

JFK ignores the way that makes him feel. “Well, yeah, but I didn’t think you’d be… like this.” 

“Well, I guess, what did you say? This does it for me.” Ponce says, “Are you busy?”

“Are you asking if I have time to fuck?” Jack asks. 

Ponce pulls a face. “You know I don’t-” 

“Yeah, I know you don’t like to think of it that way, you giant sap. Is that what you’re asking?” Somehow, joking with Ponce allows him to regulate his tone, bring himself slightly back to normal. 

“Yes, that’s what I’m asking,” Ponce is smiling as he kisses JFK again, not much more than a touch of his lips, but enough to make Jack go fucking insane. 

“Then yes. Always.” And perhaps it’s softer than he usually is, but he doesn’t really care. 

That’s all the confirmation Ponce needs to capture his lips once more, this time with even more force, more intent, and JFK melts into it. Ponce moves his arms so he’s holding Jack properly, pulling him closer as if that’s possible, and Jack places his hands on Ponce’s jaw, holding him just as close. The skirt of the ballgown still falls perfectly around him, like it was made for him to be kissed senseless in it. 

Not for the first time, Jack finds himself helpless against Ponce’s whims, something he’s been finding to be an increasingly regular occurrence and is certainly not complaining about. Ponce takes Jack’s lower lip into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth before he lets go, breaking the kiss, and JFK makes a noise he would’ve found very embarrassing a year or so ago. 

“What can I call you?” Ponce asks, voice already deep and lips already kiss-blown.

“What do you mean?” JFK’s judgement is already clouded by arousal, but he isn’t sure he’d understand the question even if it wasn’t. 

“In the dress,” Ponce says, pressing a kiss to JFK’s exposed shoulder, right next to the dress’s strap.

“Ponce, what in the world are you talkin’ about?”

Ponce laughs against his skin and Jack shivers. “Can I call you a pretty boy?”

Jack is physically incapable of stopping the whine that escapes his mouth at that.

“Do you like that?” Ponce asks, standing face to face with Jack again. 

JFK just nods, not entirely trusting his voice.

“You like being my pretty boy? C’mere,” Ponce says, stepping backward towards his bed. And Jack follows, slightly unsteady on his feet, gripping the skirt of the dress with his hands in the hopes Ponce won’t notice they’re shaking.

Jack swallows. “You’re okay with all of this?” And his voice is uncharacteristically weak, either from the nerves or his as-of-yet uncategorized feelings for Ponce or just plain horniness. 

“If I wasn’t okay with it, I wouldn’t be doing it.” Ponce says, and then he looks down at his jeans and back up at Jack and says, “I think it might be a little obvious how okay with this I am.” 

Jack laughs. “Okay,” he says, beginning to shake his initial anxiety. “Just - the dress thing - I didn’t-”

“Shh,” Ponce says, pressing his finger to Jack’s lips. “Stop worrying. Let me take care of you.”

And, well, Jack’s never been the type to deny a request like that, so when Ponce pulls him closer again he revels in it, kisses Ponce with all the intensity Ponce is giving him. Ponce takes no prisoners when he kisses, bringing JFK down with him, but Jack doesn’t mind at all. There’s no awkward back and forth now that they both know where this is going, so Ponce’s kiss is rougher, enough to take Jack apart on its own. And Jack lets himself fall apart, lets Ponce kiss him slow and languid and open-mouthed like it’s the only thing Ponce could even dream of doing right now, and Jack could probably die happy here.

When Ponce pulls away, Jack responds with a whine, and he grins. “Sorry, baby,” Ponce says, moving to press kisses along Jack’s jawline. 

“Can we move to the bed?” Jack asks, no longer very confident in his legs’ ability to hold him up.

Ponce laughs but nods. 

Jack tries to find the zipper on the back of his dress. “Would you, uh, mind helping me get this off?”

Ponce considers. “How do you feel about keeping it on for a little?”

“Okay.” And his voice is significantly higher pitched.

Ponce smirks, placing his hands on Jack’s shoulders and pushing him back gently. JFK falls back onto Ponce’s bed, the skirt fanning out around him, and Ponce stares at him for a moment before climbing on top of him, a sight JFK will never get tired of seeing, and leans down to kiss him again. 

“You look so fucking good like this,” Ponce says, and Jack shifts his hips up, trying to get some friction. “Shh, be patient, baby.”

Jack nods, and then Ponce is kissing his neck again, teasing it with his teeth, sucking on the skin just below his collarbone enough to leave marks. His hand moves to the dress’s thigh slit, brushing over Jack’s thighs, something that makes him shiver, and landing on his dick, cupping it over his underwear. 

Jack absolutely keens, arching into it, but Ponce pulls his hand away.

“Ponce,” Jack says, pouting at him.

“Patience,” Ponce says, but the way he slots his leg in between Jack’s thighs kind of contradicts his point. 

Ponce shifts so his thigh ruts up against Jack’s dick, a move that is definitely deliberate, and JFK moves his hand to cover his mouth. He removes it when he thinks Ponce is done teasing him, but then Ponce does it again, and then he’s saying, “Poncey, please, oh my god, _please_.” 

But Ponce doesn’t even dignify him with a response, instead kissing him, fast and rough. Jack takes what he can get and kisses Ponce back with the same fervor, and then Ponce’s hand moves down, cupping Jack’s dick over his underwear, stroking it ever-so-slightly, and Jack’s mouth is too occupied for him to keep talking. 

It’s almost embarrassing how hard Jack is getting just from this, and Ponce is definitely noticing. He pulls away from the kiss, and Jack is already gasping. Ponce sits up, moves the slit of the dress so he has access to Jack’s dick. “Can I take these off?” He asks, gesturing to Jack’s underwear, and Jack nods faster than he’s ever done anything in his life. 

“You’re so desperate,” Ponce says, his voice low. 

“ _Ponce,_ ” Jack says, more a moan than anything else. 

“Shh,” Ponce reprimands. The walls are paper thin and he _knows_ this but there’s something about Ponce that makes him unable to fucking stay quiet. 

Ponce pulls off his underwear, shifting again so his face is in front of Jack’s dick. JFK whines before he even gets his mouth on it, and Ponce sends him a warning glance so he clamps his hand over his mouth. 

He’s so good at this it should be a crime, the way he knows exactly how to get Jack off. Jack bites down on his hand as Ponce moves his tongue along his length before taking as much of Jack’s dick in his mouth as he can. His tongue knows exactly what to do, exactly how to give Jack the pressure and stimulation he wants, but at the same time Ponce is greedy, like he can’t get enough of this, needs to take as much of Jack’s dick into his mouth as he can. Jack bites down harder, makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like a growl. His chest is rising and falling at the same pace it does after he’s been at the gym, and his small gasps can be heard even around his hand. Ponce makes an encouraging noise, kisses the tip of Jack’s dick. 

“You’re doing so good, Jack,” he says, looking up to meet Jack’s eyes, “my pretty boy.” 

Jack nods. 

“Say it.” Ponce says, voice commanding but eyes earnest. 

JFK takes his hand out of his mouth, exhales before he speaks, “your pretty boy.” His voice is weak.

“Yeah?” Ponce asks, sitting up again, leaving Jack’s dick alone. Jack whines at the lack of contact, but Ponce moves so they’re face to face again, “my pretty boy,” he says again, “c’mere.” 

They’re kissing again, slower and caring, like Ponce knows he’s taking Jack apart. Jack moans into the kiss, soft and quiet so nobody can hear it but Ponce, and Ponce moves his hand to cup Jack’s face. “Good boy,” he’s saying when they break apart, but Jack is barely registering the words, “is everything good up here?”

Something in Jack’s addled brain seems to be working, because he has the sense enough to nod. That’s confirmation enough for Ponce, who goes back down to Jack’s crotch, taking Jack’s dick into his mouth without much precursor this time. Jack just gasps at the contact, hips arching up to get himself more contact. Ponce’s hands move to Jack’s thighs, holding them down so he can work uninterrupted, and JFK doesn’t admit it but he goes crazy for the way Ponce is one of the only people able to hold him down. 

Ponce is licking up his shaft _just right,_ doing exactly what he knows Jack wants and keeping steady pressure on his thighs and at some point the hand comes out of JFK’s mouth. “Ponce, Ponce, Pon _cey,_ fuck, please, please, I can’t-” 

And Ponce pulls away again. 

“Ponce,” Jack whines, like he’s been betrayed, “you can’t-” 

“Shh, Jacky boy, it’s alright. I just didn’t want it to end so soon.” 

Jack nods, uncertain, takes a deep breath like that’ll give him the strength to keep going. 

“Think you have it in you to suck me off?” Ponce asks, voice still soft enough to let JFK know it’s alright if he doesn’t.

But Jack nods, determined. 

Ponce stands, careful to mind the dress as he does so, and lies down on the bed next to Jack. Jack watches him, gets up and straddles Ponce’s waist the way he’s done countless times before, but this time he’s shaking with want, need, whatever you want to call it. He starts undoing Ponce’s fly, pushing his jeans down until they fall onto the floor unceremoniously. And Ponce’s underwear is already wet with precome, dick so hard it must’ve been painful keeping it inside his jeans. Jack wastes no time taking Ponce’s underwear off too, and Ponce responds with a groan. 

“That’s it, Jackie-boy, that’s so-” Ponce’s voice cuts off abruptly when Jack takes his dick into his mouth, giving way to a groan.

What Jack lacks in experience, he makes up for in eagerness. 

Ponce is his first as far as ‘anything you can’t do with a girl’ goes, but Ponce has known this, and he’s been patient the whole time. The thing about Jack, though, is that he throws himself into all his endeavors with a certain zeal, and this is no different. 

It had been a bit of a learning curve. Their first time, Ponce lasted for a comically short time because everything was so _much_ and Jack is, well, Jack. The next few had been less exciting, but Jack is a good learner as long as the things he’s learning don’t relate to school, and making Ponce moan underneath him is the best reward he’s ever gotten. 

It’s almost unfair how good Jack is at sucking dick after so few attempts. Jack’s eyes flutter shut like he’s getting off on it, like having Ponce’s cock in his mouth is all he needs. He’s everything at once, tongue everywhere he can get to, hollowed out cheeks, soft noises escaping him as he moves his head as far down as he can go. Ponce keens, tries not to make noise or buck his hips and settles for burying his hands in Jack’s hair. Jack nods encouragingly, shifting so the back of Ponce’s dick is practically down his throat, and Ponce tightens his grip. Jack moans around his dick, and Ponce doesn’t know how this boy hasn’t killed him yet. 

Jack looks a picture like this, lying between Ponce’s legs. The dress is still on, the skirt pooled around him, like he’s supposed to be at some kind of ball instead of _here,_ on Ponce’s bed, sucking Ponce off. His eyes roll back in his head every time Ponce pulls his hair and if Ponce was anywhere in his right mind he’d tear his gaze away to stop himself from going insane but he doesn’t think he could if he tried. 

“ _Christ,_ Jack,” Ponce says, barely more than a gasp, and Jack responds by pressing his tongue against the underside of his dick and licking, pulling away just to immediately return to ruining him. 

Ponce bites down on his lip to keep himself quiet, but Jack knows exactly what he’s doing. “Jackie-boy, I’m close,” and Jack doesn’t move. 

He takes a deep breath to regulate his tone, to try and sound like he still has control over this situation. “It’d be a shame to make a mess all over that pretty little dress of yours,” Ponce says, but his voice is wavering and his breath hitches in the middle so there’s really no hiding it anymore. 

Jack props himself up so he can look at Ponce. “It’s alright,” he says, voice a little rough, “I want you to come in my mouth.” His face flushes like it’s something to be ashamed of.

If Ponce was in his right mind, he’d ask Jack if he was sure. But he isn’t anywhere near his right mind, so he just moans without thinking to cover his mouth and nods. And Jack goes back to his dick, keeping his eyes open to watch Ponce’s face. 

Ponce comes undone like that, making eye contact with Jack while Jack sucks him off just the way he likes it, “Jack, Jack, _please,_ ” and he comes while saying Jack’s name. Jack swallows everything just like he said he would, like he wants it. Jack stays there for a moment longer, keeping his mouth on Ponce’s dick as Ponce tries and fails to regulate his breathing, and returns to Ponce’s side. 

Jack wipes his mouth with his arm as he lays down. “Fuck, Jack,” Ponce says.   
Jack smiles at him sheepishly, like he can still be shy after something like that. 

Ponce sits up, ignoring the way he’s still slightly out of it, and looks at Jack’s dick, which has got to be rock fucking hard at this point. “Why don’t we get you out of that dress?” Ponce asks. Jack nods insanely fast. 

“C’mere,” Ponce says, gesturing, and Jack sits up, his back facing Ponce. Ponce reaches up to undo the zipper carefully, pulling it down and exposing Jack’s skin. He runs his fingertips over the exposed skin, finally allowed to touch him, and Jack’s head falls back, onto his shoulder. “I can’t get this off you if we stay sitting,” Ponce says softly, pressing his lips to Jack’s forehead. 

Jack nods, standing on slightly unsteady feet. Ponce joins him, slipping the dress’s straps off his shoulders. The dress falls off him, landing in a pool at his feet, and he steps out of it, only stopping to pick it up and toss it onto his bed. For some reason he feels more exposed now than he would’ve had Ponce just taken the dress off in the first place. Ponce must know, because he takes a step closer and Jack in his arms, and then they’re pressed up against each other kissing. 

Ponce kisses him gently, carefully, like JFK is something precious, and Jack pushes down the way that makes him feel. He’s weak on his feet but Ponce senses it, lets him shift his weight onto him. Ponce’s hand moves down to Jack’s dick and brushes it, a warning. Jack whines, and Ponce moves his other arm to the small of Jack’s back, steadying him. Jack breaks the kiss so he can lean his head on Ponce’s shoulder, letting out small breaths and gasps as Ponce strokes him off, starting slow and getting faster. 

“That’s it, baby,” Ponce says, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, “that’s it, pretty boy.” 

Jack keens, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Ponce’s collarbone. Ponce knows exactly what to do, exactly how to move his hand and give Jack the friction he wants without making Jack work for it, and he can feel the way it’s pulling him apart. 

“‘S alright, baby, I got you.” Jack is leaning on him in earnest, gasping in unison with Ponce’s strokes.

“Ponce, fuck, _Ponce_ ,” Jack says, barely audible, and Ponce moves so his lips stay on Jack’s temple. It takes almost no time at all for Jack to get close, and Ponce has to notice because he just keeps stroking harder. “Poncey, please.” 

“Come on, pretty boy,” Ponce says softly against his forehead, and then all it takes is a few more strokes and Jack is gone. 

He moans Ponce’s name as he comes, going fully slack in Ponce’s arms. But Ponce holds him up through all of it, shushing him and running his hand through his hair. Jack shifts so he can look at Ponce, and Ponce kisses him, soft and sweet and careful. 

“That was so good, Jack,” Ponce says when they part, tracing Jack’s jawline with his hand, “can you stay here so I can get tissues or something?”

Jack nods even though he doesn’t want to, and Ponce leaves him alone, only to come back a few seconds later with tissues. He wipes the come from Jack’s torso and then his own, wiping Jack’s dick down with such gentleness and care that Jack doesn’t find it arousing, just _cute._

“How are you feeling?” Ponce asks him. 

Jack nods. “Great. Good. That was. Very good,” he says eloquently. 

Ponce breaks out into a grin. “You’re tired.” 

“Do you have time for a nap?” Jack asks, looking at Ponce with eyes that he couldn’t say no to even if he didn’t have time.

“Always,” Ponce says, following Jack back onto his bed. 

Jack wastes no time getting himself comfortable under Ponce’s blankets, which Ponce doesn’t blame him for and thinks is insanely cute anyway. When Ponce gets in bed he opens his arms and Jack curls into them, resting his head on Ponce’s shoulder, and Ponce presses a kiss to his forehead. Jack makes a contented noise and shuts his eyes. 

“Is the dress something you put on sometimes? You don’t have to be scared to wear it around me, I just want you to be comfortable,” Ponce starts saying, his voice soft and gentle.

“Shh, I’m sleeping,” Jack says, an obvious attempt to avoid the conversation. 

Ponce runs his hand through Jack’s hair, ignoring him. “I’m just saying, if you want to wear a dress sometimes, I’m cool with that. If you wanna do anything else, like painting your nails or something, we can go shopping for it together, if you want.” 

“D’you mean it?” Jack asks, a whisper.

“‘Course I do,” Ponce says.

Jack yawns, burrowing his face into the crook of Ponce’s neck. “Thanks, Ponce,” he says, pressing a kiss to Ponce’s collarbone. 

“Anytime, Jack.”

**Author's Note:**

> if for some reason you made it all the way through this [you can find me on tumblr here](lafayettesass.tumblr.com)


End file.
